Chapter 1-1A Chapter by Shep
In the distance, a small house sat on a hillside, where an old man sits in his rocking chair gazing at the clear night sky. Evening had befallen the old man, and in the cool of the breeze, his gaze had turned toward the shimmering stars above...
The old man looked upon at Death sighed with relief, yet not surprised by his arrival. He pats old Betsy, rubbing shells between his fingers. “You know I've been waiting a long time for you?”
Feeling weak, he laughed at himself. “Fine mess I got myself into this time. Thought it was hog wash, thinking Death was going to help me. Great, now we're talking to ourselves. Well I don't like here and I want to get out,” he said to himself. The feeling of being trapped is stronger with each step he takes and despair and loneness was getting stronger by the minuet. His heart was racing like was it going to beat right out of his chest. “I am doomed,” he said.
The tired young boy just looked at the old man as if he should have known who the boy was, fell to the ground in nearby corner with his head in hands and begins to cry. The old man ponders this in his mind gathers his strength and some courage. Went to where the boy is sitting. He tries again… in hope this might be his way out.
Taking a closer look, he sees how frail the boy is, as if he had been through a war - though of a different kind of battle. He's dirty, but so is the old man, he doesn’t care at this point. He's shivering and not sure from the cold. The old man quietly removed his jacket trying not to startle him and puts the jacket around his shoulders. The boy flinched, but does not look up. Trying to make him feel more at easy at the same time, plus to contain the excitement that there might be away out, there’s a feeling that he is the key. Knowing now the worse thing is to do is frighten this boy more. Then he would be truly alone in here forever and doom would come more quickly, he could taste it.
Hearing the quiet sobs of the boy is almost at peace now, considering just a while ago it was silent as a grave. On the other hand it does give the old man lots of time to think. “TIME does it exist here? Does anyone know that I am even missing? Does anyone even care? Does it even really matter anymore?” The old man thought of old Betsy sitting alone by the side of the house his only friend these days. “Or does Time exist at all?” All is quiet where he is at the moment even the boy is silent. “Strange did I do something? Did I say anything because I am alone with my thoughts, unless?” Old man thinks for a moment.
Noticing the boy's eyes staring back into his, somehow they were warm, friendly yet they seemed full of pain, sorrow and loneliness. The old man just realized something. “He must have brought him here. He is also the key to this strange puzzle, but why?" Will the pain of sorrow ever end? All he wanted was just to die, to forget the nightmares of his past and the world dying around him. Worlds and dreams that are not his own and nightmares of everlasting darkness caused by some evil man named Morgan. Things seemed to just get worse not better. The old man thought as he rubbed his head with the back of his hand. “We need to find the way out and soon.”
He looked down at the tired young boy whom seemed to be bewildered and lost... This time lying beside him was a set of old keys. They both looked at the keys lying beside him. He gave the old man a quirky little smile handed them to him. The old man looked into his deep tear laden eyes, as he is about to turn and ask his name. The young boy gripped him with all his strength that he has left to him as the old man lifted him off the ground to walk with him. He turned to find a door for the key. The old man thinking, “I don't remember any doors or windows, just walls that go nowhere.”
The old man turned to ask his new friend about these keys and why he never used them? Or the more important where are all the doors for these keys? The old man turned on his right to ask, just to discover his friend is gone. His jacket lay on the ground where the boy used to be. “Where could he have gone? I need him. Please don't leave me not now, not here, not in the dark, where are you? Who are you?” The old man calls out.
The old man wondered if he should go on alone, he began to search the corridors for the doors and for his missing friend, trying not too letting fear get in the way. The old man can barely hear anything except for his own heartbeat and the dull sounds of clinking of the keys in his hand twisting beside him. “I must be mad, I never seen any door's in here, where could he have gone? It's so dark in here. Wait I see. Yes I think I see something just up ahead, a shape? WAIT? DON’T LEAVE!!” The old man screamed.
His heart raced faster as he got closer to the shape, he saw a small figure the same size of the young boy. “Yes. It is the same boy pointing to the same door?” He asked himself; running, tired, but knowing he must get there, afraid he might leave him here alone. “I hate being alone especially here. I was right,” the old man said nearly out of breath. “It is the small boy.” He looked somehow familiar to him as if he’d had seen him somewhere before perhaps in a dream? The old man noticed the same sad, wanting eyes. The young boy looked up at him, gave a little smile and pointed at a little keyhole at a rusted lock in the door. The door is old, black and tarnished. The old man turned and asked. “Is this the way out?”
The young boy backed away from the door quickly. Fear was shown on his face and all he could do is point with his little fingers, shaking them at the door. The old man looked back to where the little boy was standing and watched him fade into the background with the door as the old man opened it. He looked back once more and watched the door close, even the air is different, the colors the sounds. “But why was that boy so afraid? Why did he look so familiar to me yet so sad? More questions, why am I here? I wonder how old that boy was. He could have not been any older than ten or perhaps eleven.”
Just for a moment the old man thought he was left alone again with his own thoughts. In the yard the old man looked around noticed questioning the time of year. “It feels like it was September or early October,” he whispered. The leaves had just stopped falling and the winter cold was just settling in. There in the yard was a young boy playing in the leaves. Much like the one he left behind, behind the door now closed as he watched him for while unseen. He wondered what it would be like to be that young again. Not to have adult problems, not having to suffer the things that he has suffered. Forgetting about the boy for the moment for in that single moment he becomes that boy...
* * *
The old man never felt so alive the autumn leaves touched his skin as he threw them into the air watching them fall to ground around him. The wind ran through his hair, “I am FREE!! The pain is gone,” he shouted.
He ran through the yard, down the road as fast as he could yelled into the wind. “How long would it last? Run, run, and let nobody catch me, I won't tell a soul. All it matters is that I am FREE from the world. I am a kid again at last. Run, run don't let them catch me… don't let them find me. I' am FREE to LIVE, to LIVE AGAIN!” As the old man ran trying to escape himself in the boy’s body he was over powered with the boy’s memories and emotion, his mind slipping into a distance fog. He becomes trapped in the boy’s world…
* * *
“The only problem with running was there is nowhere to run to. After all I am only 10 and it's getting cold now, except for this nagging feeling that I am supposed do something be somewhere, besides play in the leaves. Wishing is great and all besides running round its lots of fun too. I want to go home,” the boy said to himself.
“My foster brother Jeff must be home early from work today; he's 18, he’s getting ready to go on mission and works at local welding shop. We don't talk much…he's always busy. I get the feeling I haven't been here very long. Something tells me I don't stay anywhere very long.” Some sort of a nagging feeling like being tugged as he looked around. “Did you hear that? Came from the outside of the house or was it just the sound as if the wind just made something fall at the back of the house.” It made his skin crawl as he searched with his eyes...
“It must have been Jeff. Never did know when he was coming or going these days. The folks left for the weekend won’t be back till sometime tonight. Better make sure the dishes are done before they get home or my a*s is grass that's for sure. They won't care who left them. Jeff's their perfect little angel. I'm everyone's gum on their shoe or yesterdays garbage.” His feet guided him towards the house with on last glace seeing a strange darkness coming over him and the house. He paused at the door before opening it leaned the rake beside the porch.
“Tried running away couple of times, always ran into a few problems; money, age, cops and food. During the winter it's cold during those months. I hate parks; burr spent enough time living in trees when I was younger. The cops are real big about you sleeping in the park and if they catch you they bring you back, because you are not old enough to go to juvie. Then you can expect biggest beaten of your life then they wonder why you wanted to run away. My question always would be the same, “why would you want to stay?”
“Things are getting little better. Heck I might actually get to go home; there is talk about sending me home for good, that's hard to believe. Course I have not lived at home more than, let’s see counting 1,2,3,4,5,6 maybe 6 years of my entire life at home since age 10, which usually is not more than 3 to four months at a time. Well, but look at the possibilities. Never leaving again. Maybe it is mistake? Maybe they do want me... they? Or he does? There's that noise again. Somebody is in the house. Jeff must be home. Funny I didn't hear his car.” The young boy walked through the house. There was an odd feeling, its cold against the boy’s skin. It was a feeling or a presence of death in the house. The source of the noise was coming from Jeff's bedroom down the hall.
The boy’s legs felt like they are made out of lead he could barely move them, slowly reaching Jeff’s room. The boy slowly, turned the doorknob and opened the door, very quietly so not disturb anything including the dust. The boy puts his hand to his mouth to scream no, but no words, no sound. Nothing came out of his mouth. The young boy felt paralyzed to move as his eyes within those short few seconds locked with Jeff’s.
© 2012 Shep
Shelved in 2 LibrariesAdded on June 7, 2012
Last Updated on July 7, 2012
Whats Behind the Looking Glass?
AboutUpdated January 23, 2013 I have started a New Book Titled: My Life And How It Has Changed Me. Listed under my single books. I would love to have lots of friends that review my hard work. Please .. more..
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